


Not

by calcetineys



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mild Gore, Unresolved Ending, also kinda spoilers for tma, but like as angsty a take on it as possible, i didn't read the shit i Didn't Read This Shit, i spent less than 2 hours on this and it probably shows, i'm only past season 3 so, its not really an au, more like something from that exist in tw, proofread i mean, that 'thing' being the NotThem, the magnus archives au, up to season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcetineys/pseuds/calcetineys
Summary: It'snot him.
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Not

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all… I just finished the third season of the Magnus Archives and I found myself saying "dammit, now I have to do a steo NotThem AU"
> 
> Basically, while writing this I embodied the "I don't wanna go through this again" gif, because, despite evidence to the contrary, I’m not in the mood for Major Character Death. Which is what you’re in for here. 
> 
> A non-spoiler-y description of the NotThem: basically, it’s a monster. A monster that will find a person, kill them, and take their place. It doesn’t take their face or anything though exactly, it messes with people’s memories to make them think that it was always that person, but it doesn’t look, or sound or act like them, and there are always a few people who can see through the deception. 
> 
> So, yeah, fitting.
> 
> Also, there's some mentions of other things, usually "The Something". If you're not familiar with TMA, they're otherworldly entities that are pretty much what they sound like.

“Because I remember Theo from the fourth grade, okay? That’s not Theo.” 

The attitude, the demeanor would have been enough of a tip off for that fact. Because it is a fact. The fact is that this- this _thing-_ pretending to be Theo Raeken is _not._

It doesn’t even look like him. The freckles, the reddish-brown hair, the dark eyes, even the fact that he’s now taller than Stiles when he was always shorter when they were kids. That was the point that let Scott explain away the discrepancies, that they were kids, and something as indeterminable as how tall a child might grow to be isn’t enough to say that someone can’t be who they once were. 

And yes, that’s true. 

But this thing was never Theo. 

“His eyes are literally a different color- and I’m not talking about the glowing!” 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, Stiles,” the- the _NotTheo_ said that first night. “Maybe you’re just misremembering.” 

Stiles would have been more _done_ with the fact that a monster was trying to gaslight him if it wasn’t for the chill NotTheo’s voice send up his spine. 

It wasn’t _him._

“I’m sure you could find some old pictures of us,” the thing went on, looking not a bit worried, not a bit concerned, not a bit _real._

The way it smiled, so sharp, so knowing, so _sure,_ took any of the surprise Stiles might have felt as he torn through a box of grade school memories later that night and found that _thing’s_ face smiling out above the name _Theo Raeken_ in their fourth grade yearbook. 

He practically rips the pages, searching for candids, for club pictures, for any trace, already knowing what he’d find, knowing what that thing wanted him to see. He shouldn’t have bothered, it would do him no good, but he- 

He had to know how far this went. 

How much this thing was capable of, to see it fully, to know- to know what he was dealing with. 

To know what took Theo. 

And he looked everywhere else, online, in other boxes with his old Little League gear, even at the crudely drawn picture of him and Theo and Scott that he had drawn in art class. 

Theo’s hair had been drawn in brown crayon. 

Now it was a smear of dirty red, like a mockery of dried blood. 

And he sat back, suddenly sure that this wasn’t like the Nogitsune. This wasn’t something they could expel from the body, that they could change and trap and lock away. This wasn’t something that they could get to leave Theo in peace. 

Because they was nothing left of him to leave. 

It didn’t even wear his face. 

Stiles still doesn’t know if that was better or worse. He might say it was better, that it wouldn’t be Theo’s face that they see when it does… whatever it plans to do to them. But he’s the only one to see that, to know it doesn’t look like him. Scott will still see his childhood friend, Lydia will see her old classmate, Liam and Kira and Malia will see someone that their friends once knew. Even if he can prove it isn’t Theo, they’ll still see the stand-in, the ‘person’ that takes his place in the world. 

Even when they looked at the Nogitsune, at least Stiles was still there. 

But at least this way, there’d be nothing to bury, nothing to hide when he’s done with it. 

\- 

“I had kinda hoped it’d be you,” the thing says in a voice that isn’t at all like Theo’s. Its eyes once again find Stiles, and the proximity of their seats in Jeep makes Stiles shudders. It also makes him angry, enough that he has to force himself to listen to the next words: “I mean, it’d be easier if it wasn’t but… Given the circumstances, it makes sense.” 

“What circumstances?” Stiles asks, though he doesn’t need to. 

“Oh, you know,” the thing sighs, like it is tired. “Having something else wear your skin. Well, that’s your case, at least. In Theo’s though… well-” 

It breaks off laughing, though what passes as its throat is being squeezed shut by Stiles’ hands. 

“Your sense of fear is all off,” it wheezes out, still amused and Stiles tightens his hands. “I guess it’s because of where you live, or- heh- what’s lived in you-“ 

Still, it manages laughter, higher, more grating and more unsettling as Stiles squeezes for all he’s worth. But even still, the thing’s hands come up and pry his hands away like his grip was nonexistent, and it forces Stiles back, against the driver side door and leans close, those dark eyes almost all pupil with delight and mirth. 

“Maybe you’re just that angry! Oh, it’s always more fun that way. Messy, to be sure, but oh, such fun… Personally, I think it’s a bit of all of it. You’ve been touched be such darkness, as similar a one as your world has to mine. Then again, so have all your little friends… ha, the little banshee, she doesn’t even realize she serves The End, does she? Oh, on some level, yes, but she doesn’t know, how close… how real…” 

The thing trails off, and its fingers pick up the trail along Stiles’ cheek, and Stiles can’t breath, can’t move, tries to make himself reach for the door handle, because it’s clear now that he won’t win this fight, not like this, and the only way to get away is to get out. 

But as he finally gets his hand to cooperate, the NotTheo’s grabs it, forcing it back into his lap and somehow its face gets closer, the glee in its eyes returns and brings malice with it. 

“Wait, I haven’t even told you how it happened! You’ll want to hear this! You always want the gory details, don’t you, Stiles?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Always have, always sticking your nose where it shouldn’t be! Well, you’re welcome to this _morbid_ tale. I heard you, you know. Talking about how there’s nothing left of him, but that’s not true. 

“Well, it is, I guess, in one of the ways you care. He is dead. But I’m wearing some parts of him, and even better, I know things he knew. And trust me, Stiles, you might be getting a better deal with _me_ than you would have with _him.”_

He wants to tell it to shut up again, wants to slam into it to make it stop, but the thing is right. He did always- 

So he can’t stop himself from asking, “What?” 

“Oh well, here’s one of the other reasons I hoped it’d be you who’d see past me. I mean, _you_ would have been safe from him, safe _because_ of him, if you can believe it, ha! Oh, but he had plans, Stiles, plans enough to make you see that, if you yourself were who you really claim to be, you’d be glad he is dead.” 

“ _I_ am exactly who I claim to be!” Stiles shouts, sharper, higher than he meant, the words not what he meant to say in the first place. Nothing is as it’s meant to be. But who is this _thing_ to judge him? 

“As much as I am!” It thrills. “Although I’m being honest right now, Stiles-“ 

And it pushes its hand against Stiles’ throat, forcing his head back against the glass, not enough to hurt, but enough to- enough. “You could at least do the same.” 

But then it sighs. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about. Not really. There may be time enough for that. Maybe. Ha, you’re good at distraction, you know that? Ah, not answering? Oh, I see.” 

It relaxes its grasp, enough that Stiles can breath without wheezing. The thing goes on without waiting for the answer it claimed to want. 

“Where was I? Right. You were... a focal point of his plans. Always _alive,_ always _safe._ He cared about you, Stiles. It was… disgusting, the way you humans _care_ about things and… other people. That’s why I figured it be you. I thought I might be able to steal you from him, if you hadn’t realized, but honestly, that sounds so _boring._ Blah, blah, betrayal, blah blah, ruining friendships or whatever it is that you mortals claim to share to fend off that deep-seated fear of being _alone._ Oh yes, _you_ serve The Lonely _beautifully,_ and he would have crushed all your anchors against it. 

“He didn’t doubt his ability to succeed, but looking at you now, I’m sure he’d have had a harder time of it than expected. You _cling._ It’s tiring. I could have let this drag on, but you knew the truth and I knew the truth and swapping stories is much more entertaining. You’re still more angry than afraid though.” 

It _sighs._

“I guess I could make the usual threats against your remaining anchors, say I’ll wear your father, your friend Scott, even that little one that follows you around and believed you about me, Liam, was it? Bright futures extinguished, yada yada, left an orphan, ugh, honestly, human emotions are _tiring._ At first I thought I'd get a break from it with him, but..." 

It pauses, and when it smiles, well, Stiles is tried too. 

“You know how I found him? That’s just it. He found me. He was looking into ways to help those doctors, or maybe he was already planning on ways to kill your Scott, I didn’t pay that much attention to the particulars, but it was his own doing. He thought- ha- he thought he could control me, thought I would do his bidding, though he could use me. If only he had known.” 

“Honestly, I’m not sure I want to continue his plan,” it sounds quieter now, contemplative, almost downcast. “It would mostly just breed… pain at this point. I don’t have that much interest in _that,_ not when it doesn’t come with fear. That’s a pretty picked-over thing here, isn’t it? You’ve all kind of… numb to that part of yourselves. A thing enough like me has already cleared you out…” 

“It’s a pity… even that fear you have, of what you really are? That's not my domain, not really... but there’s always new places to go, new people to feed on. But I’ll be taking this skin with me, Stiles. Someone might believe you someday, someone other than that little one, and I’d rather you didn’t disrupt my plans anymore than you already have.” 

It lets his throat go, and it lets pretense go, stretching to fill the cab, to fill beyond it, and somehow, it was right. Stiles is too numb to feel the fear he should, to fear the rage to do something as it leaves and takes what’s left of the boy he once knew.


End file.
